already scraped away from the shutters

why do they rattle affirming or improve?

the underworld efferent by the subway

no, the real world.

my baby is in quotations.

it's just that it's so late 

and stupid and scary

that i couldn't say anything

so i'll close the brief case (i think)

and there's some road zipping by

the lights are still showing

the underworld

practicing sentence structure resurfaces the subjective

i discovered my philosophy black bear in the canopy

steep graded we're played out

i look at my journal and feel anger garbage

for the feeling of throwing something out

my poem, with the bear mauling us, fails.

i wrote it once, in my journal and didn't work on it.

feeling tired so i don't have to think is good.

making myself tired by thinking is good.

i keep getting interrupted because i'm at work.

if i weren't at work i'd do something to stop the interruptions.

i'm going to spend time getting interruptions out of the way.

once, driving to college, i rolled my car in a bank of snow.
it was a harmless accident.
it was soft, no broken glass, nothing dented, twisted or banged.
when they rolled the car back on to it's wheels,
i saw all the things i had packed my car with
to bring to my dorm toss around in the car.
three years later i read ted berrigan describe his spirit
in a poem.
i think 'my spirit is like the things in my car that day.'

the cursor moves like a silver bird
i stand in my 24th year
the fall happens now
water comes down my face
as i inhale
i submerge and exhale
something disctracts me
i read autumn by garcia richards
on poets.org

im bigger than most clocks

not fitting in time it's funny

how everyone is stupid

i thought

short fiction, novels, easier

than poetry

24 ft horse

unladen wires

explode me

hoodie

hands were a subject at work today.

i wanted to put my hands in your skin.

spinelessly

i feel large flat wide headed

large hands shouldering

coffins. no-think.

i know you think.

move your brain out the peep-hole

walk the hall a ghost

and pound on the elevator

pound with no-hand.

the man inside deserves

raw lettuce.